


You'll Never Know Until You're There

by sophia_sol



Series: Eagle whipping fic [2]
Category: The Eagle (2011)
Genre: M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophia_sol/pseuds/sophia_sol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that they've agreed for Marcus to whip Esca, Marcus can't get it out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Never Know Until You're There

**Author's Note:**

> So. Uh. I wasn’t going to write a sequel to How Far We’ve Come, and then I couldn’t get the opening sentence to leave me alone so I gave up and wrote the dratted thing. In other words: I AM A LIAR SOMETIMES. Also, once again many thanks to Carmarthen for betaing!

Marcus can't get it out of his head, after that conversation with Esca. The thoughts -- images -- feelings -- descend on him at the slightest provocation, and his mind is left spinning with it.

Now that they’ve agreed to -- they've _agreed_ for Marcus to _whip_ Esca. Marcus has agreed to whip Esca. Esca wants Marcus to whip him.

The words tumble over each other, around and around, and it never stops being shocking.

When will it happen? They didn't talk about that. Will Esca come to him one evening and say, "All right, Marcus, tonight I want you to whip me"? Will Esca wait for Marcus to make the first move? Will it be soon? Tomorrow? Or half a month from now? Or a year?

He thinks about how it will go, how Marcus will take the whip in his hand, how Esca will kneel on the ground and look at him confidently, how the leather will crack loudly against Esca and leave red behind on that pale skin, how Esca will be taut with the effort to not move, how Esca won't make a sound.

He thinks about it a lot.

And he finds himself watching Esca, even more than he used to, his eyes never leaving him. Esca is so beautiful in everything he does, moving with a sort of hard grace, in utter control of his body and of everything around him. Marcus has noticed this many times before, but now his thoughts always turn to how Esca’s beauty and control will still be present when Marcus whips him.

It should be a contradiction, of course. The one holding the whip is the one with control. But Esca says he will not be made less by being whipped, and as Marcus watches, he begins to believe it. Esca could not be lessened by anything.

One afternoon when Marcus' thoughts are elsewhere -- he is contemplating whether there is any hope of rain soon and whether he should be worried for their fields -- Esca speaks.

"So," he says. "I want you to whip me."

Marcus' mouth goes dry. "Today?" he manages to say. "Now?"

Esca grins, bright and open. "Why not? I presume you have been thinking about it since we last talked."

Marcus nods. Thinking has been inevitable. "Do you have --" he begins, and then can’t finish the sentence.

"A whip? Yes. Come with me." Esca walks back to the house and Marcus automatically follows.

"Here," Esca says, pulling a whip from a wooden chest and handing it to Marcus. He takes it, mutely, weighs it in his hands, strokes the cool leather. It is a good whip, and much less vicious than those he has seen -- and used -- before. With this he will not have to worry as much about causing actual harm, he thinks, and is relieved. But then he should have expected no less of Esca.

"What do you want me to do?" Marcus asks.

Esca says nothing, but grins again, pulls off his tunic, and lies gracefully down on the bed. "All right. Hit me."

Marcus grips the whip tightly in one hand. Esca wants, and Marcus could never say no. He obeys.

It is -- not quite like he imagined it. Esca does not hold his reactions tightly inside. He gasps, he moans, he flexes and shifts, and after each stroke he unevenly orders Marcus, "Again." Marcus does what Esca says, grateful for the direction. It allows him to step back from his worries; with Esca in control he knows that nothing will go wrong, he knows that Esca truly wants this. It allows him to admire Esca's beauty, and the red stripes blooming across his back, and the way he seems to _relax_ into each stroke of the whip.

When Esca finally pants, "Enough," and Marcus lowers the whip, Marcus is startled to realize how caught up in the whole scenario he had become, how much he enjoyed it. He would be horrified except that Esca looks up at him with wide eyes and a relaxed and open expression on his face and says, a little breathlessly, "Thank you."

Marcus shifts awkwardly, then turns and replaces the whip in the chest. "You are -- very welcome," he says, and Esca laughs softly.

"Oh, Marcus," he says, in an overwhelmingly fond tone. "It's all right. Come here." He pats the bed beside him and looks at Marcus, expectant. Marcus obediently lies down, and Esca throws an arm over Marcus and pulls him close. "It's all right," Esca says again, and the comforting presence of Esca pressed against him grounds Marcus. He lets out his breath; he relaxes. Yes, it is all right. It is good.


End file.
